


Gnashing Teeth and Criminal Tongues (conspire against the odds)

by LadySlytherin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Derek Has Issues, Derek Needs To Use His Words, Derek's Alpha Form, Derek's Eyebrows, Dirty Talk, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02 AU, SBshiftedderek, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Sterek Bingo 2017, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Witches, Xenophilia, consent issues but they're discussed and handled appropriately, discussions of knotting, discussions of shifted sex, making out with a shifted werewolf, sbMythology, sbtopbottom, sort of, stiles needs to use his words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 13:23:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11059875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySlytherin/pseuds/LadySlytherin
Summary: When Stiles mouths off to the wrong set of witches, he finds himself unable to control his tongue around a certain alpha werewolf. As Stiles struggles with the lesson the witches want him to learn, he knows it's only a matter of time until the truth comes out. It always does.





	Gnashing Teeth and Criminal Tongues (conspire against the odds)

**Author's Note:**

> S2 compliant; nothing post-S2 happened - no alpha!pack, no alpha!Scott, no Darach, no Nogitsune, no Kira or Malia, nobody died, Jackson didn’t leave...but Cora’s around because Derek deserves his sister. Set the summer after Senior year, so Stiles is legal.
> 
> This is my fourth Sterek Bingo Month fic; three left after this one. :P
> 
> Themes used:
> 
>  **Top/Bottom** \- Stiles is rather aggressive about his desire to take Derek's dick in this. You have been warned.
> 
>  **Mythology** \- ff you don't know the story of Pasiphae...well, you will by the time this is done! Or at least the main points, lol. We (my pre-readers and I) actually called this _the Pasiphae fic_ while it was being written. XD
> 
>  **Shifted Derek** \- I actually checked to make sure it was okay if I used this for the shifted!Derek theme, since Derek is only in an alpha-shift rather than a full wolf-shift. If you're looking for full-wolf, at least two of my other fics in this have them.
> 
> As always, come harass me on tumblr (( everything-a-wolf-could-want )) if you're bored or whatever. Comments are love; leave me some, please.
> 
> ~ Sly

Stiles knows, better than anyone else, that he has no brain-to-mouth filter. So he’s not even surprised that he’s managed to piss someone off enough to wind up cursed.

 

No, it’s not surprising in the slightest.

 

What _is_ surprising is the level of vitriol and malice inherent in what he finds himself cursed _with._ Sometimes, Stiles can’t help being shocked by just how much he manages to piss people off. Particularly random strangers and/or supernatural entities. He hadn’t even thought what he’d said had been offensive. He’d actually sort of meant it as a compliment. Apparently, the witch hadn’t taken it that way, if his current predicament was anything to go by. And, as much as Stiles was trying to find the humor in the situation - something he was normally good at - he was mostly just horrified.

 

To be fair, Derek looked just as horrified as Stiles felt. Moreso, really. Actually, Derek seemed to be edging past _horrified_ and straight into _traumatized_ territory. Which...yeah, okay, that was sort of fair.

 

Sometimes, Stiles wondered how he got into the sorts of situations he often found himself in. This time...well, this time, the _how_ was pretty damned clear.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 _Twenty_ _-_ _Four_ _Hours_ _Earlier_ _:_

 

“Why’s everybody have to hang out in the woods?” Stiles griped, struggling around a huge downed tree that was blocking the easiest path through the dense foliage. Scott had bounded over the thing like it was nothing; so had the other wolves. “What’s wrong with having a nice house in the ‘burbs? Hell, even a quaint little farmhouse. You know, someplace with a _driveway,_ that doesn’t require a freakin’ two hour hike to get to!”

 

“We’ve literally been in the woods for fifteen minutes.” Derek’s voice was exasperated in that way only Stiles seemed able to invoke. “You’re on the lacrosse team, Stiles, _and_ you’re in a werewolf pack. You’d think you’d be in better shape.”

 

“Shut up.” Stiles growled, though he knew it was fairly unimpressive considering who he was surrounded by. “I’m perfectly fit _for a human._ It’s not my fault the rest of you bastards have magic powers.”

 

There was silence except for the harsh rasp of Stiles’ breathing and the sounds of leaves and sticks cracking under his feet, then Scott said.”Well, I mean,  _ technically...” _

 

“Being a spark does _not_ make me equipped to frolic about in the forest like a goddamned nymph, Scott.” Stiles finally got around the damned tree’s roots and glared at his best friend, shoving sweaty hair out of his eyes and silently cursing his decision to have grown it out from the buzzcut he’d had for so many years. “Now, if you want me to throw a fireball, or put up a forcefield, or summon every squirrel in a three mile radius... _that_ I can do.”

 

“You’re insane.” Cora Hale, who’d shown up during Junior year looking for Derek, was rolling her eyes at him. “I mean, when would you possibly need to summon that many squirrels?” 

 

Stiles shrugged, tripping along behind the rest of Derek’s betas as he fell into step with Cora. “I dunno. Could be a reasonable distraction, depending on the situation.”

 

“Both of you shut up.” Derek grumbled, not even bothering to look back at them. Cora’s lips pulled into a pout as she hurried ahead to Derek’s side, clearly done associating with Stiles for the moment.

 

Honestly, Stiles sometimes wondered how he’d wound up in the Hale pack. True, Erica and Scott were genuinely fond of Stiles. But the others...

 

Boyd didn’t care one way or the other, where Stiles was concerned. Jackson and Isaac actively disliked Stiles. Cora seemed to consider him amusing or annoying in turns. Peter was alternately of the opinion that Stiles was the only reason any of them were still alive and being certain that Stiles would be the reason they all died horribly. And as for Derek...well, the alpha seemed to mostly hate him. Some days, usually when Stiles had just finished saving Derek’s life _again,_ his opinion seemed to rise a little, jumping from _outright hostility_ to _grudging tolerance._ It wasn’t exactly promising.

 

But the fact remained that Stiles _was_ a part of the pack, and not in the semi-associated way that Lydia and Allison and Danny were. Which meant he got dragged along on all sorts of expeditions, such as their current trek through the Preserve to investigate whatever oddity Derek had stumbled across _this time_ during his usual boundary-checking run. The only thing Stiles was grateful for was the fact that, despite it being mid-July, it was actually only moderately warm. The sky was a cloudless blue, but it wasn’t any warmer than sixty-five degrees. So yes, Stiles was sweating somewhat in his t-shirt and jeans, but it could have been a hell of a lot worse.

 

Suddenly, Derek stopped, throwing out a hand to call everyone else to a halt. They stumbled to a stop and Derek gestured for Stiles to come closer. Despite _really_ not wanting to, Stiles walked over to Derek’s side to find the werewolf was standing on the edge of a clearing. It looked empty, but there was a shimmer in the air between the trees that told him there was more than what he could currently see. Which, of course, was why Derek had called him over. Magic - this kind of magic - was his area of expertise.

 

Sort of.

 

Stiles focused as best he could, reaching out to lay his hand against the barrier that was woven around the clearing, through the trees. The magic had an earthy sort of hum to it, but the land it was woven into belonged to _Derek_ and the magic was foreign _._ It was fairly easy, given that, to carefully pluck at the strands until the whole net collapsed on itself. The air shimmered brightly for a moment, then cleared to reveal a group of women gathered around a fire. There were tents, and all manner of detritus that made it look like some sort of gypsy camp. Stiles could feel the magic emanating from the five women. It was strong, and older than seemed possible given none of the women looked older than twenty-five, but Stiles was a thousand percent positive none of them were druids or even sparks like Stiles himself was.

 

One of the women - she looked about nineteen or twenty - with olive-toned skin and golden-blonde hair stepped forward with a smile. “Hello, Alpha Hale. I wish you had simply requested entrance, rather than having your spark dismantle our wards.”

 

“You’re on _my_ land.” Derek pointed out, though his tone was fairly neutral. “I shouldn’t have _had_ to ask him to take down wards.”

 

She tilted her head, still smiling. “Perhaps, but we’re women after all and most of your pack is male. Can you blame us for wanting some privacy?”

 

Stiles watched in interest as Derek’s eyebrows managed to somehow convey disapproval. “I’d have happily granted you privacy, if I’d known you were planning to be in my territory. The fact that you were found-out by accident rather than informing me of your intentions here makes me wonder what, exactly, you’re trying to hide. I’m sure you can understand why I chose to come here and strip away the wards, rather than inviting you to my den for a meeting. Given the circumstances.”

 

The woman’s face shifted into understanding and sympathy. “Of course, Alpha Hale. Especially given your personal history. I do apologize for the breach in manners, but we hadn’t planned on staying long. A day or two, if that. So I didn’t see a reason. Then, when circumstances changed...well, I admit I was too distracted to think of asking permission properly.”

 

For a long minute, no one spoke. Then, Derek growled and flashed his eyes red. “And yet, you still haven’t introduced yourself, or explained your intentions while in my territory.”

 

“Ah! Again, my apologies.” The woman’s smile widened and she made a gesture with her hands that was somehow self-deprecating. “I really am a bit scattered at the moment. My name is Gennadiya. My coven and I are traveling from our home further south up to Washington. To visit family, you understand. We’d only planned on resting here a day, as I said. Two at the most. But, well...things happened.”

 

“What things?” Stiles asked, ignoring the glare Derek shot him for jumping in. “I’m curious what could make a whole coven stay in a werewolf’s territory for longer than they wanted.”

 

“That was my fault.” The girl who spoke was tiny, and as olive-toned and golden-haired as Gennadiya. “My name is Phaedra, and I’m afraid I went into labor. I just need a few more days rest before we move on. If we could impede on your hospitality just a _little_ longer, Alpha Hale...”

 

Derek’s murder-brows had softened as Phaedra spoke, and his voice was gentle when he replied. “Of course. Are you comfortable here? If not, my home is large. I wouldn’t want a new mother and child sleeping anywhere less than suitable.”

 

“You’re very kind.” Phaedra blushed, ducking her head. “But no, we’re perfectly comfortable here.”

 

“Can I ask the child’s name?” Derek was flashing his dimples as he smiled now, his body language relaxed and open with no threat to handle. The rest of the betas followed suit, leaning against trees or - in Cora’s case - simply dropping down to sit on the ground.

 

Phaedra laughed, ducking into the tent behind her for a moment and coming out with the infant seconds later. She crossed the clearing to Derek’s side, and he took the baby carefully and with an ease that was unexpected if you didn’t know the alpha had a huge soft-spot for children and animals. “Her name is Thea.”

 

Meanwhile, one of the other women - with the same olive complexion but with hair as black as pitch and eyes nearly as dark, and the one who seemed the oldest for all that Gennadiya seemed in charge - stepped up to Stiles with a smile. “You’re a spark, then.”

 

“I am.” Stiles agreed. He didn’t often meet magic-users, except the occasional druid and only then because they tended to be emissaries to packs. “You’re a...witch?”

 

The woman’s lips curved a little more, her smile growing a bit. “After a fashion, yes, I suppose. The term is accurate enough, anyway. My name is Eurydice.” She glanced at Derek for a moment, watching the alpha cooing over the baby, then turned back to Stiles. “Your alpha is quite young to have amassed such a formidable pack. It’s impressive.”

 

Stiles couldn't help preening a little, because he knew damned good and well that his research skills, his magic, and his sheer _awesomeness_ was a large part of why Derek was doing as well as he was. Stiles had even been the one to figure out how Derek could reclaim the land the old Hale house had been built on so he could rebuild, which he’d done the previous summer. Stiles knew Derek wasn’t ever going to thank him for any of it, and he’d never have demanded recognition, but the fact remained that _he_ was the reason Derek was still alive, more than a dozen times over. Stiles figured _that_ was probably why he was in the pack, actually. It was just Derek’s way of thanking him for everything he’d done.

 

“I’m Stiles, and thanks.” And Stiles meant that, because the compliment may have been intended for Derek but it was flattering to all of them to some degree. Thinking to return it by showing an interest in her coven - and a little to show off more of his magic skills - he added. “You all look really young, but your magic feels a _lot_ older. What are you, a few hundred years old or...?”

 

The smile on Eurydice’s face never wavered, and it wasn’t until Derek was snapping at him that he even realized he’d misspoken. “Seriously, Stiles? Do you have to insult  _ everyone?” _

 

“I wasn’t _trying_ to insult her.” Stiles turned back to Eurydice with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I don’t really think before I talk a lot of the time. I just meant that I can tell that you’re really powerful, and I know you don’t look like you’re any older than Derek but I’m pretty sure that’s not actually true and I just thought it was super interesting, because I don’t really meet a lot of other magic users. Like, ever. Except druids, but they all talk in riddles. I’ve never met a witch before and I just...you ladies are _not_ what I was picturing.”

 

“Not much a filter on that one, is there?” Called out a red-haired woman, tossing her hair a little bit.

 

Eurydice laughed. “Now, Alecto, take a closer look. You can see the boy’s holding back quite a bit. He just masks that with his supposed lack of filter. People hear the babble and assume he’s not hiding a thing.” She flicked her eyes back to him, a considering look on her sharp face. “Some of what you’re holding back is _very_ interesting, isn’t it, Stiles?”

 

Stiles shrugged, a little wary now because his secrets were secrets  _ for a reason. _ “ I don’t know about that.” He laughed a little, though it was clearly forced. “I don’t think I really like the idea of you poking around in my head or whatever, though. Kind of rude. And creepy. And invasive.”

 

“We’re not _poking.”_ It was the brunette who’d been talking to the redheaded Alecto who snapped the words, glaring heatedly at Stiles. “You _broadcast,_ to anyone sensitive enough to pick up on it.”

 

“Hush now, Xylia.” Gennadiya chided her gently, her blue eyes locked on Stiles in a way that seemed speculative, making Stiles wary. “Stiles is young, and still learning. It’s hardly his fault he’s so...unknowledgeable.”

 

Stiles bristled at that, because _excuse the fuck outta them,_ but he knew _a lot_ considering he didn’t have anyone to teach him and he’d been figuring shit out on his own. “I’d like to know how much _you_ knew at eighteen.” Stiles’ tone was waspish, but he didn’t care. “You might be all wise and shit now, but when you were my age, I’m betting you didn’t know squat. And even if I am _broadcasting_ or whatever, it’s still got to be rude to bring it up, right? I can’t imagine that shit’s kosher.”

 

Xylia was looking at him with exasperation now, which he guessed was better than the glaring from before though he still didn’t like it much. “Honestly, child. You need to learn to break the habit of saying whatever pops into your head. I understand you use it as a shield, and goodness knows there’s things we keep to ourselves because it’s best for everyone. But sometimes we hide things because we’re afraid rather than because we  _ need  _ to. Maybe, if you were a bit more honest about certain things, you’d find yourself in possession of more diplomacy.”

 

Stiles wasn’t sure he liked the look on her face, and he immediately held out both hands defensively. “Hey, now...I don’t want anyone doing anything _witchy_ to me. I doubt I could break whatever spell you’d use, without a _ton_ of time and effort, and that is _not_ how I want to spend my summer, thanks.”

 

And now _everyone_ was frowning at him, though it was Phaedra who spoke, even as she took Thea back from Derek’s arms. “Normally, we would never cast without permission. That you’d think we would says a lot more about _you_ than it does about _us.”_ She shook her head, then looked at him with a small smile and added. “I think, in this instance, a little _push_ wouldn’t go amiss. Someone needs to teach you a thing or two, Stiles. About witches...and about yourself. I hope, for your sake, that you learn quickly.”

 

Stiles had been so busy watching Phaedra that he’d forgotten a witch was standing less than a foot from him. It wasn’t until she had her hand on him, blue light spilling out from between her palm and his arm, that he realized he hadn’t been looking at the right witch. It was too late, by then, to do anything to protect himself. He debated attacking in turn, but wasn’t sure he’d be able to throw something out before Eurydice or one of the others got a shield up. It also might provoke them into attacking the rest of the pack.

 

As for an out-and-out fight...well, there was a baby to consider. Stiles didn’t really want to go there.

 

Gennadiya was smiling sweetly at Derek as Eurydice stepped back and Stiles was hit with a wave of dizziness. “I expect you should get him home, Alpha Hale. He’ll be a little woozy for an hour or so, then he’ll be just fine. On that, you have my word. As for my coven and I...well, we’ll be out of your territory - and your hair - in just a few days. As soon as Phaedra and Thea are ready to travel.”

 

Derek had moved to catch Stiles before he’d hit the dirt, and he was now glaring at Gennadiya over the teenage boy held securely in his arms, bridal style. “I ought to remove you from my territory right now.”

 

“You’re welcome to try.” Gennadiya agreed, shrugging a little. “I’d understand the decision, given we’ve cast on one of your pack. But Stiles here was more than asking for it, and we’ve done nothing that will cause him any sort of permanent harm. He’s simply being taught a lesson in honesty and filtering, and the consequences of speaking without thought or control.”

 

Derek looked down at Stiles, who was pale and looking a little dazed in his arms. Stiles blinked blearily up at him, head lolling a bit on his neck. “He’s not hurt?” The witches all shook their heads, smiling reassuringly, and Derek muttered. “He _does_ need to think before he speaks...”

 

“Have a little faith, Alpha Hale.” Alecto laughed, tossing her flame-red hair again. “We mean you and your pack no harm. The boy will learn, or the spell will stick until he does, but that’s all.”

 

And Derek believed them, so he signalled for his betas to head out. He followed closely with Stiles still held securely against his chest. Whatever they’d done...Stiles would just have to sort it out.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Stiles had seemed fine about an hour later, and the rest of the night had passed uneventfully. They’d tried figuring out what the witches had done, but Stiles seemed capable of lying and no magical filter for his wayward thoughts suddenly appeared so it was hard to say.

 

It wasn’t until training the next afternoon that it became apparent what the witches had done, though the _why_ was a little unclear. Other than the fact that Stiles had clearly pissed them off a _lot_ more than it had initially seemed, that was; that much was obvious. But why they’d chosen this particular brand of punishment, no one could quite figure out. Though that was partly because they hadn’t had a chance to do any research yet.

 

Much to Stiles’ everlasting humiliation, the entire pack and assorted extras - Lydia, Allison, and Danny - were all present and accounted for when it happened.

 

The betas were paired off and sparring - Erica and Isaac, Cora and Jackson, Boyd and Scott - while Derek supervised, calling out advice and corrections as-needed. Allison was once again trying to teach Lydia how to use a bow and arrow, though Lydia seemed to prefer a crossbow to the traditional bow Allison kept trying to force on her. Stiles had been going over some firearms safety and training with Danny, because those of them without claws and fangs needed to do _something_ to protect themselves and - other than Allison’s dad and his own father - Stiles was the best shot, having grown up around guns. And sure, Lydia had some pretty kickass banshee skills she’d been honing for the last two years and Stiles had his magic, but nothing quite beat an arrow or a bullet. 

 

The whole thing happened because Jackson was grumbling about Derek not actually sparring _with_ them. Which was stupid, because the only beta who could properly fight with Derek was Peter. And Peter was casually sipping some sort of cold, fruity beverage and reading a book while lazing on the rebuilt Hale house’s porch swing, so _of course_ Derek wasn’t sparring. But Jackson was running his mouth and Derek finally had enough, so he ordered the betas to try to bring him down. They could try one at a time, or in groups, or even as a whole unit; no rules and no holds barred. Then, eyes glowing red and claws flicked out, Derek braced himself for the first attempt.

 

By the time Cora finally joined in, Stiles and the other humans (or, in Lydia’s case,  _ banshee _ ) had migrated closer so they could watch better. Peter stayed on the porch, but he was calling out suggestions for group-attacks and coordination. With Cora and Peter strategizing, the odds got a little more even and Derek resorted to shifting. Not just claws and fangs. Not even just his full beta-shift. No, Derek opted to push his body into his alpha-shift.

 

He looked...kind of like Peter had as an alpha, and kind of like the werewolves from Underworld, and kind of like nothing Stiles had ever seen before. When he stood on his back legs, he was a solid eight feet tall. His front paws were almost like hands, and fairly dextrous, but padded like a canine’s. His back paws were more like a wolf’s, albeit much larger. He had a tail, and a full muzzle with a mouthful of sharp teeth, and black fur covering him. His whole skull, really, was like that of a wolf, though again - _much_ larger. His eyes glowed red, and the claws tipping both his front and back paws were vicious-looking. Everything about him screamed _danger._

 

So Stiles could probably be forgiven for being a little blindsided by the wave of absolutely overwhelming lust that crashed over him as Derek finished the shift and snarled at his betas challengingly.

 

“Fuck me...” Stiles breathed, and something in his tone must have registered as _off_ because all of the wolves turned towards him. ‘ _Or,’_ Stiles thought as he watched the way Derek’s nose twitched. ‘ _Or they can smell this totally inappropriate boner.’_

 

Whatever the case, Stiles could feel his face heating with a blush. The worst part was, it wasn’t all from embarrassment. Because Derek was still standing there, every inch an alpha werewolf, and Stiles wanted. With a desperation that bordered on insanity, he  _ wanted. _

 

And before he could stop himself, his mouth was off and running. “Oh god, I want you to fuck me.” He watched as Derek’s eyes flared a brighter red for a moment, lips peeling back in a snarling growl, and he staggered forward in a sort of flailing mess of limbs. It was like his body was moving without any input from his brain.

 

“Please...” Stiles whined as he stumbled to a stop in front of Derek, reaching out and curling long fingers into the thick, dark fur on Derek’s belly, just at the bottom of the alpha’s ribcage. Derek jerked backwards and Stiles went with him, not letting go, mouth still moving. “Oh my god, _please..._ please fuck me, Der. I need...god, I _need_ you inside me, need your cock. Please, alpha... _please...”_

 

And suddenly, Stiles’ hands were pressed against well-defined abs and he was staring into stunned gray-green-gold eyes set in a gorgeous - _very_ red - face. It was like being doused in cold water.

 

“Oh my god.” Stiles breathed, horrified, as he yanked his hands away from Derek’s skin and backed away so fast he wound up on his ass. He sat on the grass, gaping up at Derek, who was staring at him with an utterly horrified look on his face. The alpha seemed _traumatized,_ to be honest. And under other circumstances, Stiles might have found it funny. But that? _That had not been funny._ Because Stiles hadn’t meant to say _any_ of that.

 

“Well.” Peter sounded more amused than anyone had a right to, considering what had just happened. “I think we can safely assume that _that_ is what the witches cursed him with.”

 

“Oh my _god.”_ Stiles repeated, sort of wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole. His heart was still pounding and his mouth had gone dry and he was still half-hard because the situation in his pants wasn’t going to go down just because he was humiliated, at least not for another minute or two.

 

Derek was suddenly scowling, though Stiles noted it wasn’t _nearly_ as impressive when his face was sporting what would have been an _adorable_ blush, if it hadn’t been Stiles’ own horrific behavior that had caused it. “I’m going to kill them.”

 

“By all means.” Peter agreed, sounding vaguely bored. “Let’s make this delightful little spell _permanent._ I’m sure Stiles won’t mind at all.”

 

“Please don’t do that.” Stiles managed hoarsely, stricken by the very idea. “It...it’s embarrassing, okay, and sort of horrible, but like...no death. Especially not if it’ll make the curse irreversible.”

 

Derek growled, then muttered. “I’m at least going to demand they remove it. Taking away someone’s right to consent is unacceptable.”

 

And yeah, okay; Stiles agreed with that, even if the situation was a _little_ more complicated than Derek seemed to understand. So he nodded meekly, before mumbling. “I’m just...going to go home and try to forget that ever happened, okay?” Because Stiles _really_ wanted to go, but he wasn’t about to flee from a pack training session like a scared child.

 

Thankfully, Derek just nodded towards Stiles’ jeep, which was all the permission Stiles needed. He was off like a shot, climbing into the jeep and throwing it in gear the second he had the key in the ignition. Stiles knew he’d need to face everyone eventually - knew he’d need to face the _problem_ eventually - but for the moment, all he wanted was to hide in his room and forget the world - and the pack - existed. Just for a few hours. And really, he didn’t think that was too much to ask. Not at all.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The problem, Stiles discovered fairly quickly, was _not_ easily solved.

 

Derek went to see the witches, hoping to get them to reverse the spell, but they wouldn’t let him through the wards no matter how many times he asked. By the time he got back out there _with_ Stiles the next morning, so the spark could dismantle them, the witches were _gone._ Which left everyone wondering how they were going to break the spell, when they weren’t even sure what it _was._ Normally, this was the point when Stiles threw himself into research but he found himself reluctant to even _think_ about it. He was actually sort of hoping it would just...go away on its own.

 

Stiles wasn’t that lucky.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“It’s probably best if you don’t come to training sessions until we’ve sorted out the spell.” Derek said into the phone, because a text had seemed too informal but he wasn’t sure he wanted to see Stiles again just yet. The short time they’d spent in the preserve while trying to ask the - now absent - witches to reverse their spell had been awkward enough to last Derek ten lifetimes. He had no desire to repeat it.

 

“Of course.” Stiles agreed and Derek was pretty sure that was relief in the teen’s voice. “But we’re still good for pack movie night tomorrow, right?”

 

Derek nodded, then remember Stiles couldn't see him. “Yeah, sure. That should be safe.” It wasn’t as though Derek had any intention of shifting during movie night, after all.

 

After they’d hung up, Derek went for a run. It was his way of warming up before his betas - human and non-human alike - arrived for training. By the time he’d circled back to the house, he’d mostly put Stiles and the teen’s odd predicament out of his mind. Which was good, because his betas arrived shortly after and demanded his full attention. Training was running fairly smoothly, with Derek and Peter both shifted - Derek into alpha-mode and Peter into his full beta-shift - to show some specific moves to the other wolves. Lydia, Danny, and Allison were pouring over a stack of old books Peter had supplied them with, huddled together on a blanket spread out on the grass. All-in-all, it was a good day.

 

Then, Derek heard it.

 

The sound of the familiar engine distracted him enough that Peter got a good swipe in, claws tearing into Derek’s side and rending flesh like it was nothing. Blood sprayed out in an arc over the grass and Derek whipped back around to roar angrily at Peter. It would heal fast enough, but it fucking _hurt._ Peter shrugged, flicking his tongue over the point of one of his bloody claws, as though silently saying, ‘ _Pay attention, then.’_ Which was a fair point, or at least it would have been had Stiles’ jeep not chosen that moment to careen into view and skid to a stop, tires spraying gravel. It was jarring, in large part because Stiles was a bit wild about most of his actions but in a non-life-or-death situation he took care of the jeep like it was holy.

 

Before anyone could say or do anything, the driver’s side door opened and Stiles fell out. He looked, in a word,  _ wrecked. _

 

Derek had seen Stiles a lot of ways. He’d seen the teen after three straight days of research, no sleep. He’d seen him bloody and beaten after being tortured by hunters. He’d seen him exhausted and broken apart, falling to pieces as he struggled to _not_ tell his father what was going on...and he’d seen him shattered and furious and terrified all at once when Noah finally learned the truth after one close call too many. He’d seen Stiles when he’d just woken up, and right before he fell asleep, and pretty much every state in between the two. But this? This was something new.

 

Stiles’ hair - grown out to an inch or two long instead of the perpetual buzz cut he’d sported when Derek had first met him - was a mess. And not in an ‘ _I just woke up.’_ sort of way. No, this was more like Stiles had been fisting his hands in the tousled mass and pulling; like he’d been driven to distraction and hadn’t been able to resist tugging on it to try to settle himself in his skin. He was wearing plaid cotton sleep pants, a dark blue with lighter blue and white stripes crisscrossing in a grid-like pattern. His shirt was the sort of plain white undershirt you’d expect a teenager to sleep in, but it was _huge_ on Stiles’ lanky frame, the neck pulled snug to one side of his neck while the other side bared nearly all of his collarbone and shoulder. His pale skin was flushed - not just is face, but down his neck and shoulders as well, at least what Derek could see of them - and his pulse was too-fast; erratic.

 

Derek growled at the sight of him, instantly concerned because it looked like something was wrong. Stiles’ tawny eyes were wild; seeking; desperate. His body moved jerkily, like a puppet controlled by inexpert strings, pupils blown wide and breathing harsh and ragged. Stiles moved towards Derek, in the same uncoordinated way he’d apparently been driving, and Derek suddenly wondered how the hell the teen had managed to make it without crashing. Stiles wasn’t graceful at the best of times and this was hardly that. He didn’t hesitate to cross the grass, swiftly closing the distance between them, concern driving his movements.

 

He staggered to a halt with a few feet still between them when the _scent_ hit him.

 

Stiles smelled like desperation, and need, and _lust._ He smelled like himself - lush green growing things, and loam, and ozone, and petrichor. Like the forest after it rained, and like the spark of magic in his blood. But he also smelled hot and spicy and sweet-slick around the edges. Like he’d been teased; poised on the edge of orgasm for a while now and unable to fall over that knife’s edge of pleasure until it blurred into something that was almost - but not quite - pain. He smelled wild with it; arousal so strong it made Derek dizzy.

 

“ Alpha...” Stiles whimpered, stumbling the last few steps to close the small distance between them. Derek growled, a warning and a threat and a plea all in one because he wasn’t sure he could control himself. Not when Stiles smelled like  _ that. _

 

Stiles whined, a keening sort of sound, and moved as though to touch Derek. Before he could make contact, Scott and Jackson flanked him, grabbing him by the arms and hauling him back. Without thought, Derek threw his head back and roared. His betas dropped Stiles a second after, backing away with wide eyes and raised hands, heads tipped to bear their throats in submission to their furious alpha. Derek’s head was still swimming with Stiles’ scent, and the quiet noises the teen was making in the back of his throat, and he felt wildly out of control himself. Felt like he might do something regrettable, if he didn’t get some distance between them,  _ now. _

 

Stiles, however, seemed to have no such reservations. Either that, or he was even more out of control than Derek was. The alpha had a feeling it was the latter.

 

Stiles pushed forward again, hands resting on Derek’s waist as the teen leaned in. Derek rumbled a low growl as Stiles nuzzled into the fur in the center of his chest, near the bottom of his ribcage. Stiles responded to the sound by moaning, tipping his head and dropping his shoulder at the same time. Combined with the skewed tshirt he had on, the motion served to bare every delectable inch of Stiles’ mole-dotted throat and shoulder to Derek’s burning red gaze.

 

“Please...” Stiles panted, still making soft mewling sounds between words. “Der, I need you... _please,_ alpha...want you to take me, claim me, _breed me...”_

 

Those words drew a snort from Peter, and the sound was incongruent enough with the situation to have Derek shaking his head and stepping back swiftly, struggling to clear his head.

 

Stiles whined and dropped to his knees, shuffling forward awkwardly, golden eyes wide and pleading and locked on Derek’s. “I’ll be _so good_ for you...” He promised, voice fervent and husky. “Be such a good little bitch for you, alpha, I promise. Let me show you...”

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Derek.” Peter’s exasperated voice drew Derek’s attention, letting him wrest back a little of his control from the wolf. “Either shift back or fuck him. I don’t care which, but it’s cruel to leave him like this. He’s a mess of hormones and submission right now. Put the poor boy out of his misery, one way or the other.”

 

Gritting his teeth, Derek shifted back though his wolf howled in furious protest. It left Derek’s head throbbing, just behind his temples. The way Stiles immediately yelped and scrambled back from him - scuttling backwards on hands and feet like a crab - did nothing to improve Derek’s mood.

 

Derek wound up scowling down at Stiles, hastily tugging on the jeans Cora tossed to him as he glared with red eyes, hoping Stiles’ behavior was suitably distracting enough to prevent anyone from noticing  _ his  _ arousal. “I thought I told you to stay away.”

 

“I _tried.”_ Stiles snapped, scent still lush and spicy-sweet and far too aroused for Derek’s piece of mind but souring a little around the edges with embarrassment and humiliation. “I was at home, minding my business, when I just...I felt like I _had_ to find you. I resisted for as long as I could, which...I don’t even know how long it was, honestly. By the time I got in the jeep, I wasn’t exactly in a coherent frame of mind.”

 

“Stiles...?” Lydia called from where she was still sitting on the grass, having smartly maintained a safe distance from the debacle playing out in Derek’s front yard. “”Would you say it’s like you’re consumed by a sort of Derek-centric lust or is it more that you’re driven mad with the need to be fucked by Derek?”

 

There was a _very_ awkward pause, then Stiles spoke in a voice a few octaves higher than normal. “What, exactly, is the difference between those two things?”

 

Lydia raised an eyebrow as though she couldn't quite believe Stiles was questioning her, then said flatly. “I need to know if you’re hot for him in a general sense - as in, you’d be content with sucking him off, or him rutting against you until you made a mess of yourself - or if your desire is specifically focused on having Derek’s dick in your ass, which is what is _seems_ _like_ from what you keep saying.”

 

“Oh.” Derek listened as Stiles’ throat clicked when he swallowed; listened to the horrified rasp in the younger man’s voice as he spoke and let it cool his own desire. ”Um, yeah. The second one. It’s definitely focused on that one specific thing. Like, _really_ focused.”

 

Lydia nodded thoughtfully, then turned to stare speculatively at Derek. “It’s only when he’s shifted, right, Stiles? I mean, you’re not currently trying to sit on his dck so I can only assume...”

 

“Lydia!” Stiles hissed, all of the embarrassed color draining from his cheeks and leaving him looking wan and miserable as he stared at her in abject horror. 

 

“What?” The redhead raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re going to start acting all maidenly on me. I just had to listen to you ask Derek to _breed you._ I think all moments of maidenly outrage can be left at the door.”

 

Stiles groaned, scrubbing his hands roughly over his face before he glared at her. “Look, I can’t be held responsible for anything I say when the spell is in effect. So, considering my continued virginal status, I’d like to think any and all maidenly moments on my part are fully justifiable.” Those whiskey eyes flicked to Derek for a moment and a fresh wave of color suffused Stiles’ cheeks even as he turned away again, still talking. “As for the other thing, I can’t really say for _certain_ without more data, but yes. It seems to be when Derek shifts.”

 

“You’re thinking Pasiphae.” Danny said, reaching out and tapping the book that was open in front of Lydia. “It’s not a bad fit, really...”

 

And Derek - whose major in college had been ancient history with a focus on the anthropology behind mythology, theology, and folklore - groaned. Because of all the things Stiles could have been hit with, it was _just their luck_ that he’d wind up living out Pasiphae’s curse.

 

This wasn’t going to end well; he was sure of it.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Stiles considered it a testament to the level of weird in their lives that things didn’t get awkward with the pack after the _second_ time he begged an alpha’d-out Derek to fuck him. True, things between himself and Derek were increasingly tense, but that was to be expected when you factored in the situation. The rest of the pack, however, seemed to take it entirely in stride. Other than the occasional lewd comment from Peter - and a few jokes from Erica, Isaac, and Jackson - no one even brought the situation up. Which was nice because it meant that, between incidents, Stiles could mostly forget he was cursed.

 

 _Mostly,_ because there was still research going on, though there’d been no progress in the two weeks since the spell had been cast.

 

“Do you think it’s just Derek?”

 

Stiles lifted his head from where he’d been pretending to read about...something. Whatever the hell Lydia had put it front of him. The book smelled like mildew and dust, and the print was tiny and faded, and Stiles couldn't be bothered to _actually_ read it. He blinked at the strawberry-blonde tyrant who’d just asked him a question he couldn't quite parse the importance of. But then, Lydia had given him no context to work with and Stiles was rarely able to follow her train of thought. Not without extensive lists and diagrams, anyway. And not because she was smarter than him, but just because their brains worked in _very_ different ways.

 

“What?” He finally asked, because it was that or continue blinking stupidly at her in the hopes that she’d explain further.

 

“The spell, Stiles.” Lydia rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Do you think it’s only Derek that can activate it? Like, is the focus of the spell _Derek_ or is it _shifted wolf?”_

 

Stiles opened his mouth, then closed it again with a snap. He glanced across Derek’s library at where the alpha was curled up on a huge, plush armchair reading, then looked back at Lydia with a shrug. He was about ninety-five percent sure it was _just_ Derek, but he didn’t know how to tell her that without giving away far more than he wanted to. Especially since Derek was still in range of _normal-people_ hearing, let alone his hyperextended werewolf senses. It took him a minute to be able to think of a way around the question, but Stiles’ brain was almost always working on double-time so he got there pretty quick.

 

“None of the betas seem to be triggering it.” Stiles pointed out, relieved he’d thought of a way to say _just Derek_ without actually _saying it._ “ So we can probably assume its not all wolves.”

 

“But they’re betas.” Lydia pointed out, which drew Stiles’ thoughts up short. “And Derek’s beta-shift doesn’t seem to trigger it, either. What I meant was, I wonder if another _alpha_ could trigger the spell.”

 

Derek let out a low, rumbling growl from the other side of the room and Stiles jumped a little at the sound, feeling a small spark of heat curl up his spine. Squashing it ruthlessly, he bit out from between his teeth. “I don’t think bringing another alpha into the situation is a good idea, Lyds. Derek’s territorial at the best of times. Me begging some other alpha to put his dick in me _probably_ wouldn’t go over too well.”

 

Lydia hummed thoughtfully and Derek spoke without crossing the room. “Why does it matter if another alpha can activate it?”

 

Lydia shrugged and flipped a page in the book in front of her. “It probably doesn’t. I was just wondering because it would give us another option.”

 

Stiles and Derek exchanged a baffled look, before both of them turned to stare at Lydia. She lifted her head a moment later, obviously feeling their eyes on her, and sighed. “Honestly, you two are hopeless.

 

“The curse on Pasiphae broke when she followed through with the compulsion.” Her tone had slipped into what Stiles privately called _teacher-mode._ She folded her hands in front of her and Stiles imagined that if she had glasses she’d be looking over the top of them. “Now, obviously Derek’s not going to take advantage of the spell, or his position as your alpha, and fuck you. He’s got too strong of a moral compass, at least in that area. Which leaves us at a loss for how to break it, unless _another_ alpha can trigger it. In which case, someone with a bit greyer morality might be able to help expedite things.”

 

“I’m sorry, are you suggesting I actually let an alpha fuck me _while shifted?”_ Stiles asked, a whole lot of different emotions coloring the words in a way he hoped was ambiguous enough to shade over some of the things he didn’t want _anyone_ to know that thought evoked. “I’d really rather not _die_ while losing my virginity, thanks. You’ve seen how an alpha’s body mass increases when they shift, Lyds. What the hell do you think happens to their _dick?_ I’m not getting ripped apart trying to break a curse!”

 

Lydia shrugged again, but Stiles figured that was easy for her to do when it wasn’t _her_ ass on the line. Literally, as well as figuratively. “Pasiphae ought to have been damaged by the bull, but part of the curse’s effect was that it was perfectly safe for her to actually engage in the act of being mounted by it. She wasn’t hurt in the slightest and the story goes that she enjoyed herself.”

 

Stiles made an aggrieved sound, because Lydia’s words were probably meant to be soothing but they _weren’t._ All they did was make his face heat with a blush at the imagine they painted; at the thought of himself, moaning and writhing wantonly under a shifted Derek.

 

“She was a goddess.” Stiles finally managed to say, though his voice was hoarser than he’d have liked. “Pretty sure that had more to do with it than anything else.”

 

“Debatable.” Lydia said, flipping back to the first page she’d been looking at. “It’s hardly as though classical Greco-Roman figures aren’t known for sexing up various non-human figures. Odds are, if the spell is designed to make you lust after a shifted alpha - and if we take the coven at their word about not wanting to cause you any sort of lasting harm - then follow-through wouldn’t hurt you at all. And...”

 

She shot him a pointed look as she snapped the heavy tome shut, folding her hands on top of the worn cover. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but it’s your best shot. I can’t think of another way to undo the spell, unless we manage to track down Eurydice. And who knows how long  _ that  _ could take.”

 

Stiles swallowed hard, casting an anxious look at Derek before dropping his eyes to the table in front of him. As quietly as he could manage - though he knew Derek would hear him anyway - he mumbled. “It won’t work. I...it’s not _all_ alphas. Just Derek.”

 

“Oh?” Lydia raised an eyebrow curiously, arms folded across her chest now as she leaned back in her chair. “And how can you _possibly_ know that, Stiles? Derek’s the only alpha you’ve been around since this happened.”

 

“Because.” Stiles hissed from between his teeth. “I can _feel it,_ if I...if I think about it. Okay? And it’s not like we don’t know other alphas so I’ve got a few to choose from, thought-wise. I’ve even seen two of them shifted. And there’s _nothing,_ Lyds. It’s _just Derek.”_

 

And that...that was about all the humiliation Stiles could take for one afternoon, thank you. So he shook his head and stood up, grabbing his things. “I can’t talk about this anymore right now.” He shoved the book he’d been handed across the table at Lydia and added waspishly. “Do me a favor, please. Stop looking at the curse and try to focus on finding the witches. _That_ is what’s going to help me.”

 

Then, without so much as a glance in Derek’s direction, Stiles stormed out - of the library, and the Hale house. It was all he _could_ do.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“You know this might be the best chance he has.”

 

Derek pulled his gaze away from the doorway Stiles had disappeared through, looking at where Lydia was still seated. She’d pulled a nail file out from somewhere and was fussing with it, though Derek would’ve bet money her nails were as perfectly manicured as ever. She seemed bored, but he was pretty sure that was as false as her nail-work. Her eyes were sharp as she glanced over at him, and Derek had to resist the urge to bare his fangs at her, unappreciative as he was of her meddling. Shows of aggression never had the desired effect on Lydia; he’d learned that early on. She viewed it as a show of weakness, not power.

 

She was usually right, too.

 

Instead, Derek looked away and stayed silent. A few moments later, Lydia spoke again. “I think we both know we’re not going to find those witches, Derek. What happens the next time there’s a threat and you can’t shift without turning Stiles into a panting horndog?” Lydia slammed the nail file down onto the table, making Derek wince despite how soft the sound had been. “Do we chain him up every time there’s a big-bad from now until forever? Do we just count his magic as gone, since we can’t possibly have you both in a fight? Do you condemn yourself to _never_ using the alpha-shift again, since we’ve _more than_ proven it will draw Stiles to you? I know you don’t want to hear it, but there aren’t exactly a lot of options here.”

 

“I’m not having sex with him while he’s under a spell.” Derek snapped, because there was nothing else he _could_ say; not really. Not under the circumstances. “I won’t do it, Lydia. Find another way.”

 

“Sure, of course. Another way.” Lydia smiled, sharp and dangerous despite the sugar-sweet tone of voice. “I mean, it’s not like spells like this are known to cause madness or anything. It’s not like it’ll slowly drive Stiles _insane,_ the longer he goes without giving in. And it’s not like that’s his biggest fear or anything.

 

“Going insane, I mean.” Lydia stood, expeditiously gathering her things into her oversized purse in a way that seemed efficient rather than hurried. Anger underlined her movements, but her words were still coming out casual and pleasant. The juxtaposition made Derek want to cringe. “You know, because of his mom and all. I mean, right now he’s not thinking of it because he’s not actually doing any of the research, but once it occurs to him...well, he’s tough, right? I’m _certain_ he’ll hold up to the threat of madness just fine.”

 

Derek ground his teeth together, then growled. “Don’t push me, Lydia. I  _ can’t.” _

 

“Can’t.” Lydia paused in the doorway, fingers curled around the dark wood of the frame. She tipped her head to the side and hummed thoughtfully. “Not _don’t want to._ An interesting distinction, wouldn’t you say?”

 

This time, Derek _did_ bare his fangs at her, eyes flashing red. Lydia’s lips curved up easily in reply. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I suggest the two of you discuss consent _before_ the spell pushes him into something insane. And before _you_ lose control. Offer poisoned water to a man dying of thirst  often enough and, eventually, he’ll take a drink. He won’t be able to stop himself, no matter the cost.”

 

The measured sound of her heels clicking on the hardwood floor of the hallway was as dramatic of an exit as a slammed door, as far as Derek was concerned. The worst part, he knew, was that she was  _ right. _

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Stiles groaned, low and deep in his throat. He had his hand curled around his cock. Had even pulled out his lube in desperation, trying to get off as fast as possible. His grip was slick, and tight, and _perfect._ It wasn’t as though Stiles didn’t know _exactly_ how to get himself off, after all. But every time he tried lately...

 

His hand fell away from his erection, and he gripped the bedclothes in frustration. His hips pushed up into empty air, fingers tangling in the soft blue sheets under him. His eyes closed and he tried to think of something - _anything at all_ \- that was sexy. He thought of Lydia...thought of soft skin and lush curves and red-painted lips. He thought of the last porn he’d watched, with the two gorgeous women touching each other like what they were doing was something holy; sacred. He thought of the porn he’d watched _before that,_ which had been a pretty guy not much older than Stiles himself, sandwiched between two older men. But everything just made him shy away; every thought turned his stomach and he knew why. Knew what he needed to think about to get off, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

 

Except it had been almost a month since he’d been cursed. It had been two weeks since Lydia had declared the only way _out_ of this mess could very well be _straight through._ It had been ten days - not that Stiles was counting, of course - since the last time Derek had shifted into his alpha form. And it had been five days since Stiles had been able to get off, because he always _stopped_ when his thoughts went down the path the curse wanted them to take and he apparently couldn't orgasm otherwise anymore.

 

Giving up for the moment, Stiles rolled onto his stomach and tried to suffocate himself with his pillow. It was either that, or acknowledge that he had to get dressed and go spend time with the pack while smelling of frustrated arousal.  _ Again. _

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Jesus, Stiles.” Jackson started bitching the second the other teen walked in and Derek really wished he _hadn’t_ because he was all for pretending Stiles didn’t reek of lust. “You couldn't just...jerk off before coming over? I mean, seriously.”

 

“I...” Stiles’ face was bright red and he looked about ready to run out the door and say _fuck it_ to pack bonding time and movie night.

 

“Shut it, Jackson.” Derek growled, adding. “Werewolves are always going to know things - _personal things_ \- about the people around them. It’s impolite to bring it up.”

 

“Never stopped Laura.” Cora laughed, and Derek was torn between smiling and cringing at her words. “I remember Mom yelling at her, back when you first noticed Paige. You know, around the time you figured out what your dick was for, Der. And she _kept bringing it up,_ and Mom just kept telling her to mind her business.”

 

Derek growled again, flashing his eyes at his baby sister. “Yeah, because it’s _impolite._ Which was sort of the point I was making. Everyone here is a healthy adult, and I can guarantee I’ve smelled some level of arousal on each one of you at one point or another, but you don’t see me bringing it up each time it happens.” He shot the various members of his back discouraging looks. “Unless we’ve decided that’s how we’re doing things - in which case, I will personally call every one of you out the second you so much as _think_ about sex - I suggest everyone drops the issue, right now.”

 

“It’s okay.” Derek’s head snapped around at Stiles’ mumbled reply. The teen still looked mortified, but he also looked like he was steeling himself. “I, uh...need to talk about it. The spell, it...it’s making it so I _can’t._ That’s why I’ve been so frustrated the last few days.”

 

Lydia sat up straighter, face intent. “Wait. You can’t as in, you can’t get it up? Or you can’t as in, you can’t _finish?_ Or you can’t as in, you finish but there’s no relief?”

 

“Ah...” Stiles glanced nervously over at Derek, and he found himself momentarily pinned in place by those golden eyes until Stiles looked away again. “I mean, I _can,_ but I can’t finish unless I think about... _you know._ Which I’m trying really hard _not_ to do. Because _boundaries._ But it’s...it’s not easy. To _not_ think about it. Because, like I said, _I can’t finish.”_

 

“It’s escalating.” Lydia said thoughtfully. “Probably because you’re resisting, but also possibly because Derek hasn’t been shifting at all. Which - and I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating - is _not_ a good idea. Stiles, do you know what happens when you try to resist a spell like this? What happened to Pasiphae until the moment she finally followed through?”

 

Stiles wasn’t answering. Whether that was because he couldn't bring himself to say the words, or because he didn’t know the answer, Derek wasn’t sure. Whatever the case, he found the words tripping off of his own tongue instead. “The lust consumed her. She was driven mad with it. So much so, it never even occurred to her to shift her shape into a cow to let the bull mount her, though she easily could have as a goddess. The curse wanted her taken as a woman, so she never thought of that; couldn't focus enough to be logical. If she hadn’t been able to convince Dedalus to make the wooden cow for her to climb inside, who knows what she might have done.”

 

Derek was sure he was blushing, but he finished softly. “Later instances of similar curses have sleepwalking as a standard symptom for the resisting party. There’s also instances where they lost all sense of time and danger, doing things like trying to cross rivers or lakes despite not being able to swim or wandering into traffic. The cursed person becomes so consumed by lust that nothing - not even their own wellbeing - registers.”

 

“That’s my point.” Lydia said, sounding quietly furious. “Stiles, I understand why you’re resisting. I do, really, because I can’t even imagine how it feels to be in this position. And Derek, I’m sure we’re all aware of why you’re not just helping Stiles break the curse the obvious way. But this...this is _dangerous.”_ She pushed to her feet, shaking her head even as she grabbed her purse. “And I’m sorry, but I can’t watch as Stiles slowly self-destructs and descends into madness because of this. I just can’t. Excuse me.”

 

She paused in the doorway leading to the front hall, turning around to raise an eyebrow at her boyfriend. “Jackson, you’re my ride. I’m sure as hell not _walking_ home. Not in these shoes, anyway.”

 

“Right.” Jackson popped up, then shot Danny an apologetic look. “I know I’m supposed to drive you home, too, but I probably won’t come back...”

 

“It’s fine.” Danny pushed to his feet as well, nodding towards Lydia. “I’ll just come with you now. We can all watch a movie at Lyd’s house.”

 

“Oooh, count me in.” Allison said, overly eager as she got to her feet as well. “Scott, you’ll drive me over so we’re not all crammed into Jackson’s Porsche, right?”

 

Scott was already agreeing, eager puppy that he was, and Derek watched as fully half of his pack all but ran out the door. There was a long, awkward pause after they left, then Peter cleared his throat. “On that note, I believe I’ll recuse myself as well. If you’ll excuse me, Derek, I’m going to go find somewhere else to be while you sort this whole delightful mess out with Stiles.”

 

Left only with his live-in teenage betas - and Stiles - Derek was about to suggest they start a movie when Cora stood as well. “Der, I love you. And I get it, I do. Your objections, I mean. But this? It’s going to rip the pack apart if you can’t fix it. Sooner, rather than later.” She walked over and leaned down to brush her lips along his forehead, the gesture achingly reminiscent of their mother and Laura. “Fix it, Der-Bear. However you have to.”

 

She nodded at the door, gesturing to the others. “Come on, guys. Let’s go find something else to do.”

 

Erica, Boyd, and Isaac shuffled along behind Cora silently as she led them outside, snagging the Camaro’s keys as she passed the table Derek kept them on. He didn’t bother arguing, knowing there was no point.

 

They’d only been gone a few seconds when Stiles sank down onto the far side of the couch Derek was sitting on, looking utterly miserable. “I’m sorry.” He said, leaning forward so his elbows were braced on his knees and his head was in his hands. “God, Der, I’m _so_ fucking sorry. This whole mess is my fault.”

 

“I blame the witches.” Derek said softly, not attempting to placate but simply being honest. “Yeah, you were a little mouthy, but this? This is beyond anything they could have reasonably done as punishment or any sort of lesson. I don’t care _what_ you said to them. This is beyond _not okay._ This is your consent. If I had even a _little_ less control, this spell could have easily resulted in you being raped.”

 

“ Can’t exactly rape the willing.” Stiles said, and Derek hated the hollow amusement coloring the words; like he was trying to be funny when the situation was anything  _ but. _

 

“That’s not amusing.” The words came out sharper than he meant them to, and Stiles jumped a little at how harsh Derek sounded. “I mean it, Stiles. Don’t joke about that. Spell-forced consent is _not_ consent. Just because it feels like you want it, doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be rape if...if I...”

 

Derek couldn't even bring himself to say it, so he just trailed off instead.

 

Stiles was silent for a few minutes, his heart thundering wildly in his chest. Finally, he whispered. “If I wanted you when I  _ wasn’t  _ under the spell, would you...I mean, would that make a difference? If I wanted you normally, I mean, would it...would it change how you view the spell’s effect on consent?”

 

Derek took a measured breath to steady himself before he answered. “I don’t know, Stiles. Because this isn’t the same as thinking I’m attractive, which I know the entire pack - outside of my direct family members - has thought at some point. It’s...when I’m shifted, that’s not...it’s _different,_ okay?”

 

“ R-right.” Stiles swallowed loudly, then slumped back against the sofa in defeat. “I, um...I think I know how to fix this. The spell, I mean. I just...I  _ can’t.” _

 

“Stiles, I already told you, I’m not appeasing the curse.” Derek reached out, stopping just short of brushing his fingers over Stiles’ hair. The teen had his eyes closed, so Derek leaned back into place before Stiles could notice what he’d almost done, adding. “We’ll find another way. There _has_ to be another way. I can’t believe those witches would actually force us to...to do _that_. Especially not while I’m _shifted.”_

 

Stiles let out a hollow little laugh, opening his eyes and rolling his head along the back of the couch to stare at Derek with an agonized sort of amusement. “You really don’t know, do you? You’re convinced, like Lydia, that it’s a curse like Pasiphae’s.”

 

Derek kept staring and Stiles laughed a little more, though the sound was tinged with hysteria. “God, this is too much. I wish I could just...” Stiles shook his head, leveling Derek with a mirthless smile. “It’s _not._ It’s not that sort of spell, Der. And I _know_ I need to just...just man up and break it, but I...I really _don’t want to.”_

 

“What kind of spell is it?” Because yeah, that was what was throwing him for a loop. The fact that Stiles could break the spell and simply _wouldn’t_ was secondary to knowing that Lydia had somehow misdiagnosed the problem in the first place.

 

Stiles huffed and it was _almost_ amused. “It’s a spell designed to teach me a lesson. About what I should be saying, and what I should be holding my tongue on. Why Lydia’s mind went to _Pasiphae_ given the nature of the lesson, I’ll never understand.”

 

Derek wondered if Stiles thought that explained things, or if he was being deliberately vague. Deciding to try taking a different tact, he asked. “Why don’t you want to break it? This can’t be fun for you.”

 

“Fun?” Stiles laughed again, and this time it was closer to normal though he still seemed at least as annoyed as he was amused. “No, I definitely wouldn’t call this _fun._ Frustrating. Infuriating. Embarrassing as all fuck. But no, not _fun._ Not in the least.”

 

He smiled at Derek, and his cheeks were pink and his eyes were glittering with something like humor but _darker;_ more self-deprecating than was strictly normal, even for Stiles. “I don’t want to break it because, in this case, the cure is worse than the disease. At least, for _me_ it is. Not really sure where you’re going to land on that whole issue, honestly.”

 

Derek fell silent, because...well, because it was Stiles who was really suffering under the curse. True, it was temptation beyond measure for Derek whenever it was active - and a little bit while Stiles smelled so much like desperation and lust because of the new anti-masturbation issue - but the curse wasn’t on _him._ It was on Stiles, and Stiles alone. So if the teen wanted to leave it in place, it was really his choice. Derek had no right to force him to break it; no right to demand Stiles do whatever it was he was so utterly opposed to doing. The curse wasn’t hurting anyone - not _really_ \- and it wasn’t his call to make, alpha or not.

 

“ Okay.” He finally said, because really there wasn’t anything else  _ to  _ say. When Stiles’ head whipped around so he could gape at him, Derek shrugged. “It’s your curse, Stiles. So it’s your choice.”

 

Stiles nodded slowly, then asked. “So...movie? I mean, I know the rest of the pack bailed, but...”

 

“Sure.” Derek reached for the remote after shooting Stiles a soft smile. “A movie sounds great.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Stiles...was _not_ watching the movie. Which was kind of a shame, because _Zombieland_ was hilarious and Stiles absolutely loved it. But all he could think about was _Derek._ The way the alpha had just...agreed to let Stiles _not_ break the curse. The way he’d just accepted that it was Stiles’ choice, though it definitely affected him as well since he couldn't shift. The fact that Derek was sitting in the dark living room of the Hale house, eating popcorn and drinking soda, laughing at what was probably one of the best-worst stupid-funny movies ever, _with Stiles,_ like it was no big deal. Like spending time with Stiles was a given; something expected and normal. Like it wasn’t a hardship, or a trial, or a bother. Like _Stiles_ was none of those things.

 

Finally, Stiles reached out and grabbed the remote, hitting the power button. The TV cut out and the room went dark, except for the weak moonlight filtering in through the room’s large windows. A few seconds later, Derek’s eyes were twin points of glowing red light and Stiles felt heat curl low in his belly. Before he could squash it down, he heard Derek scenting - the soft sniffing seemed louder in the near-dark, Stiles’ other sense trying to compensate for the fact that he could barely see - and the red eyes disappeared. For several agonizing heartbeats, neither one of them spoke. The room was fraught with tension and Stiles wondered if Derek had the slightest idea what that was even about.

 

In the end, it was Derek who spoke first. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah.” Stiles cleared his throat awkwardly, because his voice had come out like a croak and that wasn’t going to work for him. Not if he was actually going to do this. “Look, I...I want you to know that I’m only doing this because you don’t deserve to have your alpha-shift stolen from you. It’s not fair, and I’m being selfish by letting the spell stay in effect. So, first, I’m sorry about that. I should have broken it as soon as I figured out how which was, like, a week into this whole mess.”

 

Derek didn’t speak right away, and the dark was alternately oppressive and soothing as Stiles warred with himself and his failing courage. “It’s okay.” Derek  _ sounded  _ sincere, but Stiles sort of wished he could see Derek’s eyebrows to be sure; if he weren’t such a coward, he’d turn on a light. But the dark made things easier.

 

Taking a trembling breath, Stiles did his best to steady himself. “Right. Okay. _So._ Honesty is apparently the name of the game here, which was sort of the witches’ point. I think, anyway. Honesty as it leads to diplomacy, anyway, because apparently if I’m being honest about the right things I won’t be honest about the _wrong_ things. Or something like that.

 

“I don’t actually think they’re right, because I’ve _always_ lacked a filter and I sure as hell wasn’t keeping all sorts of secrets as a kid, but...the lesson is what it is.” Stiles shrugged, because he might not be able to see Derek but he knew that - even without his alpha-eyes turned on - Derek could see him. Maybe not perfectly, but a hell of a lot better than Stiles could see in the dark, anyway. “So I’m just...I’m going to say what I’m supposed to say, apparently, even though I don’t really want to. And I’m just going to ask that you don’t judge me for it. Because I wasn’t going to make it a thing, _ever,_ and I don’t want it held against me that I’m saying it now because I’m still not making it a thing, I’m just saying it to break the spell. Which isn’t to say that it’s not true, because it _is,_ it’s just that I’m not telling you to make it a thing. Okay?”

 

“I honestly can’t believe I understood all of that.” Derek said, and Stiles couldn't help smiling at the baffled amusement in the alpha’s voice. “But I did, so. Not making this a thing, just expressing something honestly for the sake of curse-breaking. Understood.”

 

“Spell-breaking.” Stiles corrected, because it seemed like an important distinction to make. “Everyone keeps calling it a curse, but curses are malicious in nature. This is just a truth spell of sorts. Not a curse.”

 

“Not really the point, Stiles.” Derek sounded a little exasperated now, but that was hardly something new around Stiles so he wasn’t worried about it. “What is it you think you need to say to break it?”

 

Stiles swallowed hard, wondering what Derek thought of his pounding heart. Wondered if the alpha could smell the anxiety rolling off of him. Wondered if there was something in his scent that would give away the fact that he was pretty sure he was going to throw up when this was over, because just the _idea_ of telling Derek was making him sick with nerves. Because Derek had given a lot away in the month since Stiles had been bespelled, and what he’d found out didn’t bode well for this conversation.

 

“You keep saying...” Stiles started, then stopped because that wasn’t quite right. Shaking his head, he tried again. “I couldn't help noticing that every time Lydia suggested breaking the spell by following through with what she _assumed_ it wanted, you reacted with disgust. Like the idea of it - sex while you’re shifted - is the most repulsive thing you could think of. You literally went out of your way, less than two hours ago, to stress to me that there’s a huge difference between being attracted to _you_ and being attracted to _shifted you.”_

 

“There _is_ a difference.” Derek said, words slow and measured. Almost precise. “And it’s not the idea of sex while shifted that I find disgusting, Stiles. My wolf _craves_ that, and it’s an urge I struggle against more than I struggle against the predatory parts of my nature. Now, the idea of _forcing_ someone to accept me when I’m in that form...I find _that_ disgusting. It’s the idea of someone being _compelled_ to allow that, that I consider abhorrent.”

 

“Oh.” Stiles swallowed nervously again, wondering a little absently if Derek could hear it when he did that. “So you, uh...wouldn’t think it was weird? Or awful or disgusting or whatever? If...”

 

“With a consenting partner, no.” Derek’s tone was still careful; it sounded like he was weighing every word he said against whatever meaning Stiles might take from it. “I’ve never done it, because I don’t exactly _date_ and I haven’t since...well, in a long time, anyway. But it’s not something I’m against, in a general sense.” He paused, then asked hesitantly. “Stiles, where are you going with this?”

 

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, tensed his shoulders, and just let the words fall off his tongue. “I want to.”

 

There was a moment of silence, then a soft _click_ that Stiles realized was the lamp on the end table next to Derek when light seared through his eyelids a second later. “Stiles...” He opened one eye, then - when he saw the odd look on Derek’s face - the other one. “Why didn’t you say the spell was escalating to affect you when I’m not shifted?”

 

Stiles groaned, then laughed a little because it was that or cry and he was humiliated enough as it was. He scrubbed his palms over his blush-warmed face, then leveled Derek with a dry look. “Because it’s _not._ The point I’m trying to make is that the spell isn’t making me _want_ anything. I mean, it’s amplifying it a little and it’s definitely compelling me to _say_ shit I’d never say otherwise and like, act on stuff, but it’s not...what I mean is that I...” Stiles huffed in annoyance, then bit out. “The _desire_ isn’t magically fabricated. It’s _mine.”_

 

“What.”

 

“Oh my god. First off, _question marks._ They’re a thing for a reason. Uptick your voice at the end so people can hear them, dude. Seriously.” Stiles couldn't help the dig; it was _normal_ for him and Derek and he desperately needed a little normal in the conversation.

 

“Don’t call me dude.” Derek snarked back, the reply practically automatic at this juncture.

 

Stiles smiled for real at that, pulling his feet up onto the couch and wrapping his arms around his legs after turning to face Derek fully. He rested his chin on his knees, watching the alpha as he explained. “I like you. A lot. I might even love you, I don’t know. I...try not to think about it. Didn’t want to give myself away, you know? I had enough of _unrequited_ with Lydia, thank you very much, and I’ve learned when someone is out of my league that it’s better to just...keep my mouth shut. I guess the witches disagree.”

 

Stiles shrugged his shoulders as much as he could in that position. “And you’re gorgeous, obviously, so those messy emotions are all tangled up with wanting you, which is fine. Understandable. I figured you even knew _that part_ because I’ve got to smell like arousal at least part of the time around you, right?”

 

“Low-grade.” Derek said, and his face was doing something odd. It was mostly blank, like he was in shock, and his eyes were wide and locked on Stiles’ face. But his eyebrows were doing a complicated sort of dance, like they couldn't quite decide what emotion to convey, and Derek’s mouth was twisting up on itself like he was trying to say something. Or trying _not_ to say something, maybe, Stiles wasn’t sure. “But almost everyone smells like that around me, some of time. It doesn’t mean anything.”

 

“Again, that’s what I figured.” Stiles said, rolling his eyes a little. “So because of that, I assumed you’d never realize how I felt and all would be well, right? Except the stupid spell couldn't just pick up on _that._ No, see, it had to pick up on the part I’ve been trying really hard to _not_ dwell on. Because, okay, maybe I sort of get a rise out of the whole danger-thing, and god knows I spent the first six months I knew you walking around with a wildly inappropriate fear-boner most of the time. And I _maybe_ have a little bit of a thing for cryptids, which predates even knowing any of you guys _existed_ so I don’t think it’s fair to hold it against me, right?”

 

“So I don’t...I mean, I _can’t_ really help the fact that you shifting sort of...you know, does it for me.” Stiles lowered his face, burying it in his knees so he didn’t have to look at Derek while saying this part.

 

His next words were a little muffled, but wasn’t as though Derek couldn't hear him. “So yeah. Claws, fangs, fur, the fact that you’re like...eight feet tall and could probably rip me apart in seconds...and, you know, then my brain gets tripped up on things like how big your dick must be when you’re shifted like that, and do you have a knot when you’re shifted, and how would that feel, and...”

 

“ **Stiles.”**

 

Stiles whimpered a little, because Derek wasn’t just growling. No, that was his _alpha voice._ And yeah, okay, maybe that sort of did it for him, too, but it was _not his fault._ He just sort of liked everything about Derek, including the fact that he was a mythological creature straight out of a horror movie. So sue him.

 

He slowly lifted his head and let his legs straighten out, sucking in a sharp breath because Derek was in beta-shift, eyes burning red. His cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears were flushed darkly and he looked like he was barely in control of himself. Still using his alpha-voice - something Stiles knew he did when he didn’t want to lisp around his fangs, a loophole none of them understood but respected nonetheless - he rumbled.  “ ** If you don’t stop talking, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself.” **

 

Oh. _Oh._ Stiles eyes went wide, then he couldn't help himself. After all, the surest way to get him to _push_ was to tell him _don’t push._ “ So...what I’m hearing is that...you like the idea? Of doing that. Is that a...a general sort of, ‘ _My wolf needs to get laid.’_ sort of wanting or is that a, ‘ _My wolf really wants to pin you down and fuck you through the forest floor.’_ with the _you_ in that sentence being me, specifically?”

 

“You.” Derek muttered, sans-alpha-voice this time. “Specifically.” And it was really sort of adorable, how Derek was looking away and the way he lisped with a mouthful of fangs.

 

Lips curving mischievously upward - because like hell he wasn’t taking advantage of this unexpected windfall - Stiles said huskily. “You want to chase me through the woods, Der? Want to hunt me down? Catch me? Pin me to the ground and...”

 

His words were cut off as Derek howled, seconds before pouncing. Stiles found himself pinned, flat on his back on the comfortable couch, staring up into red eyes and that half-shifted face he _still_ didn’t understand, because where the hell did _that much eyebrow_ just disappear to, anyway. That was a problem for another day, however, because Derek was growling softly and Stiles...Stiles was panting and his cock was hard and digging into the zipper on his jeans and _like hell_ was he wasting this chance.

 

He strained up as much as he could, considering Derek’s hands were like manacles around his wrists, pinning them to the arm of the sofa just above his head. Thankfully, Derek wasn’t holding himself more than a few inches above Stiles, so it was no trouble at all to kiss that snarling mouth. Derek startled against him, hips pushing down swiftly and making Stiles moan at the startling certainty that, yes, Derek was _very into this._ Not pausing to think about that for more than a second, Stiles let his tongue dart out, dragging it across Derek’s lower lip.

 

The alpha let his mouth drop open, panting loudly, and Stiles immediately licked at those too-sharp teeth; the ones no _human_ had. Derek growled again, but Stiles refused to be deterred. Assuming the sound had even been _meant_ as a deterrent; Stiles wasn’t really sure. He let his tongue slide across the sharp points; let them press dangerously against his lips. He could feel Derek’s claws just-barely pressing against the skin of his wrists, and the thrill of it - the _danger_ of it - just amped things up even further. He writhed a little under Derek, letting one leg press snug against the back of the couch while his other slid off the cushion, knee bending so his foot braced against the floor. It made a tidy space for Derek’s body to settle more fully, putting them flush against each other from chest to hip.

 

Suddenly, Stiles felt magic licking against his skin. Not foreign magic, either; this power was all _Derek_ in a way Stiles had never felt him before. He could feel the padded fingertips and palms now curled around his wrists, claws still lightly pricking his skin. He could feel the increased weight and size above him. And he could _feel_ as Derek’s mouth changed against his, until his tongue was licking along a line of wickedly sharp teeth set in a muzzle. Stiles let his head drop back, panting heavily as he stared up at a shifted Derek. Small scraps of shredded fabric were littering the couch, and Stiles, and probably the floor though Stiles couldn't see to confirm that. All he could see was black fur, and gleaming white fangs, and burning red eyes.

 

“ Holy shit.” Stiles breathed, because he’d never been this close to Derek when he was in alpha-shift before, excepting the handful of moments when he’d been under the spell and those were blurred over by magic and embarrassment and  _ dear god,  _ they hadn’t been like  _ this. _

 

Derek growled, ducking his massive head down and nudging his nose - a little wet, but warmer than Stiles would have expected - against Stiles’ chin.

 

“Ah...okay, big guy...” Stiles murmured, because talking helped him stay focused and not just...fall apart because this was overwhelming. In a good way, but still.

 

He tipped his head back and to the side, as much as he could considering he was pinned to a couch by over eight feet of shifted alpha werewolf. When Derek’s long, rough tongue rasped wetly up the side of his throat, Stiles let out a keening sort of whine. “Oh fuck, that’s hot. Shit...Der, again, please...”

 

Derek rumbled - in approval, Stiles assumed - and obligingly dragged his tongue along Stiles’ neck again. Stiles’ hips stuttered up into the heated press of Derek’s body as he shivered all over and gasped helplessly. He could just barely feel the edge of Derek’s front teeth - his  _ fangs  _ \- dragging along the vulnerable stretch of skin that made up his neck and throat. The danger inherent in the act of baring it to Derek, especially while he was like this, wrung a needy sound from his throat. He’d imagined this, of course, but it was nothing compared to actually experiencing it; to trusting Derek with himself while the alpha was in this form.

 

And suddenly Stiles felt that ripple of magic again, and his eyes flew open as he cried out. “No, wait, why’d you shift back?” Because that was Derek’s human face staring down at him, grey-green-blue eyes looking glassy and dazed while something about his expression was  _ wrecked. _

 

“Stiles...” Derek lowered his head to nuzzle into Stiles’ throat again, taking a few seconds to drag blunt human teeth along the edge of his jaw before he answered. “I want this. I want _you._ But I’m not going to take your virginity while I’m shifted. I could hurt you, if you aren’t prepared for it. I won’t risk it.”

 

Stiles pouted a little, but asked hopefully. “Soon? Like, if I promise to stretch myself out every night, using toys or whatever you think I need to practice?” Derek groaned, dropping his head down so his forehead was resting against Stiles’ shoulder, and Stiles laughed before saying softly. “I’d prefer it if you helped with that whole process, but I definitely don’t mind doing it. I want to feel you inside me, Der. All of you, no matter what shape you’re taking at the time.”

 

Derek lifted his head, a dimple-bearing smile curving his lips. “I love you.”

 

Stiles blinked, then smiled back though he thought his might have been a little less attractive since it was so wide it literally  _ hurt his cheeks.  _ He imagined he looked a little maniacal in fact, but couldn't bring himself to care. “I, uh...I think I might love you, too.”

 

Derek laughed, a short sharp bark of sound, before leaning in and pressed a soft kiss to Stiles’ lips. “Let me know when you figure it out for sure, okay?”

 

“Definitely. Will do.” Stiles hummed happily when Derek kissed him again, before murmuring against his lips. “So I know you said not shifted yet, but like...we’re still having sex right now, right?”

 

Derek laughed again and Stiles happily licked the sound right out Derek’s mouth, feeling oddly satisfied when it changed to a ragged moan. As Derek leaned back, releasing Stiles’ wrists so he could slide his hands under Stiles’ t-shirt, shoving it up and off of him, the teen silently vowed to track down the coven of witches and send them a thank you card. It was the least he could do, considering.

 

And as Derek dragged claw-tipped fingers down Stiles’ quivering belly, staring at him hungrily with glowing red eyes and panting around a mouthful of fangs, Stiles couldn't help the wave of desire he felt for the alpha werewolf, or the thought that chased itself briefly around his mind.

 

‘ _Pasiphae’s got nothing on me.’_

 

 _ **~**_ _ **The**_ _**End**_ _**~**_

 

 


End file.
